


That's Debatable!

by Ludwigsgirl97



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludwigsgirl97/pseuds/Ludwigsgirl97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debate! Kankri<br/>When you get your college scholorship for debate, you're expecting the same sausagefest you've had in highschool. What you weren't expecting, is that one of them would make you fall in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was shining in vain in the chilled Connecticut fall, leaves falling from their near-bare branches as wind blew, making the courtyard of your new, Ivy League school. You had your bags already in your dorm, though you saw no sign of your roommate save solid black sheets on the bed opposite yours. The clearing was full of young men and women who were deemed the best and brightest, and you were happy to be one of them. You scanned the faces, looking for anyone you thought you could be friends with before you froze to death. You were from the south, and while you were far from a country hick, you were still used to the warm sun of your homeland.   
The only person you saw not already engaged in conversation was the one who was talking the most. He was a young man, mid twenties maybe, who had wavy, but soft looking black hair, making a stunning contrast to his crimson turtleneck sweater, something you envied in your tee shirt as you shivered, and eyes so light a blue they were almost pure white. His skin was pale to the point of being nearly grey, and he spoke with a loud clear voice, though no one seemed to be paying attention. He was talking about the injustices of various forms of social classes, from the Indian caste system to the heritage system of colonial America, with mulattos and the like, to simply monetary injustices in modern nations. You found his points interesting if nothing else, and walked over to where he was giving the speech, drinking in each word, presuming him to be a professor by the professional tone of his voice.   
You were shivering as you listened, but were too engrossed in the way the words fell from his mouth as if it were Arachne’s loom, and any minute Athena would come down and tell him that the sentences he was weaving were too beautiful. Each gesture with his hands was like the winning move in a chess game, concise, and definitive. His posture was perfect, and you couldn’t help but thinking that there was one thing he looked like. A debater; something that you would recognize, considering you were one yourself, and at least decent considering your entire tuition was being paid for by the activity. He looked down at you and stopped, making you pout. You were quite enjoying the oratorical genius.  
“Hello, did you need something?” He asked, his voice sounding even deeper and smoother now that he wasn’t giving a speech.   
“No. I was just enjoying your speech, sir.” You said, still under the impression that he was a teacher, or at least an upperclassman.  
“I’m no sir. I’m just a sophomore here.” He said, smiling a little and rubbing the back of his neck. “However if there is anything you need, I would be more than happy to assist you. There is little better for the soul than to guide another person, be it through life or to the restroom.” He said, and you smiled, deciding that you defiantly liked him. Yeah, he talked a lot, but once again, you were a debater. Everyone like you talked way too much. It was the reason they had to give you certain time scales for which person to speak uninterrupted.   
“Oh! I thought you looked a little young to be a teacher. I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you,” you said, extending a hand. He nodded, and took it into his own, warm in spite of the chill.  
“Kankri Vantas. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young miss.” He said, bowing slightly, and you half expected him to kiss your hand. You sort of wished you had a large ring, to make it both more likely, and more ironic.   
“So, if you aren’t a professor, I assume you’ll be my senior on the debate team?” You inquired, and his face seemed to light up.  
“Indeed. So nice to meet someone interested in discussing the plights of today’s society. It’s quite remarkable when one is able to really appreciate the wrongs of the world and be willing to change them through the power of the non-violent word. Have you read my blog? It’s been up for just a month, but I feel that one day it will help raise awareness for the various injustices plaguing modern society.” You giggled a bit at his dorky enthusiasm. Now you knew what it was like to have a conversation with you.  
“I swear, that must be what I sound like when someone starts talking about politics.” You said, beginning to laugh so hard your already frozen lungs began to burn.  
“I see. You are a political annalist then…” the two of you went on, deciding halfway through to move into the building to seek shelter from the chill, but still fervently going back and forth about whatever issues you could come up with between you. While he remained mostly calm, you noticed that he could become quite upset if one of his pet issues were touched upon, and even more so if you disagreed with them. Not that you did not have your own set of issues that were like having a static shock with a gas pump.   
You looked at your phone, and realized that your first class started in ten minutes, and was all the way across campus. You made a hurried rush to the building, assuming that you would see him at practice, but not having enough time to get your books for the class.   
You arrived in your history course five minutes late, though luckily the teacher arrived a moment after you, and was likely just wondering why you were breathing so heavily. He went over the class rules, and did normal administrative stuff, while giving a brief framework of the semester. You sighed, happy not to have missed any actually instruction without your notebook. The bell rang, and you ran out, going straight to your dorm, knowing that you’d need your calculator for your Algebra class, something you were dreading like a lobster in a fancy reserant. No matter what you did, death seemed imminent. 

The day passed without a hitch, though you were fairly tired from your double major coarse load. European History and Pre-law were odd to juggle, but it was working quite well for you. Or at least it seemed that way to you. You ran to the room where you would no doubt find Kankri, along with the rest of your team, waiting for your coach to come in and teach you about something you should already know. The topics for debate changed every year, and this year’s was about the class systems of the modernized world. You bet that Kankri would have a field day with that one.   
You walked in, and saw him, another boy with nearly the same features, but wearing a black sweater, and three other boys, all of them looking rather stereotypical for nerdy speech kid.   
“Hey, Kankri.” You said, smiling at them, and hating the looks of amazement they gave you. You were used to being the only girl, but it still sucked actually having to convince the men that you were just as good as them.   
“Hello, (y/n). Meet the rest of the team.” He stood from his leaning position. “This is John Egbert, he’s from Georgia, and he’s got a bit of a prankster’s gambit, so be careful. This is Dirk Strider, and he’s the cool kid of the group, though he’s also quite good with technology and world affairs. This is Sollux Captor, the real tech guy, though he and Dirk are constantly fighting about it, and the one who just does research, because he has a lisp. This is my twin brother, Karkat. He’s kind of a jerk, but in his heart he’s an ok guy.”   
“I see. Well, I suck with computers, so I’ll be of no competition to you.” You nodded at the two boys with shades. Dirk had dark black ones that marked him as an otaku immediately from their pointed edges, a style that anyone else would have looked ridiculous in. Sollux had on a pair even stranger, in that they were blue and red, like 3-D glasses.   
“And don’t even think about dissing the shades. My computer is rigged to put everything up in 3-D, so they need to be this color.” He said, frowning as if he sensed your thoughts.  
“Of course, if you had simply installed a clear type rig, you could just wear any shades you wanted like me. Oh wait, could you not hack into Sony to get the blueprints?” Dirk smirked, and a small drop of sweat started forming on your temple at the thought of having to hear them arguing all the time.   
“Hey. It’s nice to meet you. Like Kankri said, I’m John.” The dark haired, Potter-glassed boy extended his hand, and before Kankri could warn you, you felt the electric shock in your palm.  
“Next time I’ll just make sure I’m touching somewhere else, so it’ll shock you.” You said, planning already.  
“Honey, you can touch me wherever you want.” Dirk said, his Texan accent alluring, but his blatant hitting on you not so much.   
“Anyway, since there is an odd number, who’s gonna pair up?” you asked, ignoring the blonde.   
“I don’t actually debate. I just stay here because Kankri owns our car. Parents though him going to Yale instead of trade school made him more deserving.” Karkat said, rolling his eyes.  
“So basically you come here instead of walking home?”  
“No. I ride the bus, but it doesn’t go anywhere near our house, so I have to wait for this prick to drive me home, even though he lives on fucking campus.” Karkat raged, and you quickly saw what made him not be very good with the whole public speaking thing. He got upset way too easy.   
“I see. So then, who will I be with?” you asked, wanting to get down to business as soon as possible, though you were hoping that the answer would be Kankri.   
“Well, you seem to be the only one who can stand this guy on a regular basis. Before we took turns, so we wouldn’t go crazy.” Strider pointed to Kankri, who looked away as if shamed.   
“Really, he seems like just the kind of guy you’d want debating with you. He’s knowledgeable, he can speak fast and still annunciate perfectly, and he has quite a projecting voice which sounds confidant yet kind. Not to mention he seems like quite the caring person, and has no flaws that I’ve seen other that he talks a bit much, and that’s what this is all about.” You said, raising an eyebrow, and then noticing how Kankri’s eyes went wide, and a small blush appeared on his cheeks at the praise.   
“You’ll learn soon enough. But don’t try and switch. We’ll pull seniority and you’ll be stuck with him.” Strider warned.  
“I’m fine with that. He seems to be a much better person than you.” You glared at the pointy-shaded junior.   
“Come on, Dirk, maybe she’s just the kind of person who can appreciate his ranting. Every one has someone.” John said, and you decided that he was kind as well, in spite of his pranking.   
“Why is no one ready yet? Just because we have a girl in here doesn’t mean you’ll spend your time flirting. Get to work, slackers.” The coach came in, a dark skinned man with a Brooklyn accent. His teacher nametag said “Jack Nior” and he seemed to be a pretty tough guy. Especially since at the mere sound of his name, people started ruffling through bags, and pulling out stacks of paper, leafing through them.  
After a few minutes, you were told to have a mock round between the four of you in your new teams. While john and Dirk were quite the team, John being the kind who would make the judges like you, as well as an argument Hawke, able to find any crack in any argument, and Dirk was the perfect balance with his aggressive attitude, and impact-geared style, they still lost as soon as Kankri opened his mouth. He went on, his voice never once falling into monotone, as the words cascaded from his mouth like a Noah’s flood of information, devastating everything in it’s way. Not that you weren’t just as good, simply that you’d think that the others would be willing to put up with anything to have someone as amazing as Kankri as their partner. Their loss, you thought as the coach yelled at them for loosing.   
“Hey, Kankri…” You turned to him as you were packing your things.  
“Yes?”  
“Um, well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out some time. We could go over cases, or just chill.” You asked, and hoped that he wouldn’t freak out, and never talk to you again. Especially since you were now perma-partners.   
“That sounds good. I suppose only coming to practice would not be enough to truly get the cases set straight, and there would be no real point in not doing a little extra when we live on the same campus. I have to drive Karkat home, but if you like, we could meet after that.” He said, and you were a bit crestfallen. You had essentially asked him out on a date, and he had just passed it off as a practice session.   
You agreed to meet at his dorm room, one he had managed to snag without a roommate, at six. You would bring one of those 50 packs of chicken nuggets from McDonald’s, and you would make the best case ever. You waved goodbye, heading to your own dorm room. At least you could be friends, and that was start, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet up at Kankri's dorm, and end up staying past curfew. Sadly, not in the way you wanted.

You had never realized that your wardrobe consisted of suits and ratty-looking jeans and T-shirts before now, as you actually wanted to look nice for a boy. You should have listened to your mother and bought that nice V-neck blouse before you went off. You hated caring what you looked like aside from professional (and if you had a male judge, one button wouldn't kill anyone, right?); it was hard work!  
Choosing the nicest of the t-shirts, you ran out to grab the promised nuggets before stopping by Kankri's dorm room. You hoped he didn't have an obnoxious roommate. Or that no one would stop you, a girl in the boy's dorm and all. The rules didn't forbid it (you had actually read them; it's quite possible you were the only one, save dress code.) but that didn't mean a teacher wouldn't spot you and decide it was inappropriate. Or worse, a drunken frat boy, who thought you were there for his own entertainment. You'd hate to have to get in a fight on your first day of college. Not to mention the fine print of your contract said that you couldn't get in any trouble, or you could be forced to pay way more than you had money for when they took away said scholarship. You found his door, number 221, and knocked three times, short, sharp taps. You heard nothing, and was ready to call his name when it opened, and standing within was Kankri in black sweatpants, and nothing else. His hair was wet and pushed behind his ear, and his face lit up bright red when he saw you, terror emerging in his eyes as he slammed the door back closed. You were about ten minutes early, and he must have still been getting dressed, though why he freaked out was anyone's guess. You went to public school, and after the bell rang, it seemed like every guy, nice body or not, ended up shirtless on their way out. You had seen a chest before, but he was apparently embarrassed of his lanky body. When he opened it again a moment later, his hair was combed and he had on a red T-Shirt. His face was still about the same shade, and you smiled at him.  
“Please, come in. I'm sorry for my previous state of indecency.” He said, moving from the doorway and gesturing for you to come in.   
“It's fine. I've seen guys with their shirts off before. It's no big deal. I brought fast food. Ground up, questionable meat, covered in equally sketchy batter and fried in week-old oil. It's the mystery that makes it taste so good.” you joked, setting the package down on the small table in the center of his single-bed dorm room. He laughed, probably a pity laugh, and it sounded just a fluid and lovely as his voice.   
“I suppose that could be part of it. Not to mention we have to mentally justify a million calories somehow, don't we?” so he read the same psych books as you. Was there anything that wasn't perfect about this guy?  
“That's true. We should have just eaten the entire Kroger bakery instead. Probably better for us. But thats effort.” you opened the box and popped one in your mouth, taking a drink of the large Dr. Pepper you'd gotten with it.   
“Speaking of effort, should we work on our case now? I would think we should finish the work we came for first, and perhaps chat afterward. I'd hate to get so interested in a conversation that we end up with nothing done.” he suggested, pulling out his laptop, and making you remember that you had forgotten your own.   
“Stupid!” you smacked your forehead, and grit your teeth, until you realized he thought you meant his idea and was somewhere between indignation and crying. “I forgot my laptop in my dorm.” you explained, and he nodded, happy not to have been the source of your scorn.   
“I could look up the information, and you begin forming the portions we would use in our case, and which portions would be used in rebuttal speeches.” He suggested, which was brief, because you didn't want to go all the way across campus to get yours, and you hated research anyway. It was boring, and you only did it because it was a means to the end of making good arguments.   
“Thanks. Research away, partner mine, and we shall have the greatest Affirmative case to ever live!” You overexagerated the words, striking a captain Morgan pose in the air a breif moment before sitting down and waiting for him to give you something to work with. 

…..................................................................

You looked at the clock, and nearly choked on air. Somehow six hours had passed, and it was midnight, far past the curfew for first year students. You sighed, wondering if sneaking around you house at night was training enough to make it all the way across the campus without being spotted. You were making a plan of attack when Kankri came out of the closet with a blanket.  
“If you wish, you may stay here tonight, and I will try and remind you to depart before eleven on any other nights you may come over.” He said, his cheeks pink again.  
“Thanks, Kankri. All I need is them getting mad and taking my scholarship away. Floor looks comfy anyway.” You took it, and grinned at him when he curled his face up in what appeared to be personal insult.  
“I would never allow a lady to sleep on the floor. My bed, thus far remains unused by myself, and the sheets cleaned, and so you would sleep on it while I take the floor.” He wasn't asking...he was telling you that you were going to take his bed because he refused to be impolite.  
“Or, since we're both adults here, we could both sleep in the bed. It's big enough and I don't starfish, I promise.” You countered, and he sighed. He was just as aware as you that this could turn into a full on debate with sources and contentions in only a few moments, and that would leave neither of you sleeping at all.   
“Very well. But we are NOT sharing a blanket. I have to maintain some chivalry, after all.” He went and grabbed another, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his cuteness. He was such a gentleman, and you had been under the impression they didn't exist anymore, if they ever had.   
“Thank you, Kankri. You're adorable.” You placed a kiss on his cheek as he walked back into the room, causing him to heat up again, face just as crimson as before, brining another laugh from your throat.   
“You enjoy manipulating me, don't you?” he pouted, trying to hide his smile.   
“No, I enjoy watching how cute your blush is. There's a difference. Now come on, I have morning class tomorrow.” you jumped into his bed, wrapping yourself in the warm, soft down blanket of dark blue that he'd given you.   
“Why do I feel like this is the start of every nerd fetish porno on the Internet?” He mumbled in dismay, getting in beside you, and making sure there was blanket between you. You laughed one last time, before closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

…...........................................................................................................................................................

Kankri woke up, rubbing his eyes as his natural clock told him it was around eight and time for him to start getting ready for his morning class. That was when he noticed that the shower connected to his dorm (he'd demanded that in his scholarship. He couldn't stand community showers.) was running. Then that the girl who had been beside him wasn't thus anymore. So there was a girl in his shower. Naked. Using his soap and towels and did he mention she was NAKED? Needless to say, he blushed again, and freaked out.   
After a moment of deep breathing, he went over to the bathroom door and knocked, trying to keep his voice from cracking as he called her name. What he hadn't expected was for the water to turn off, and her be standing with only a towel covering her body, and head leaning out to ask him what he needed. He bit his lip,and took several more deep breathes.  
“A-are you almost d-done with the shower?” He asked, and she blushed a bit, and smiled.  
“Yeah. Hold on, just let me get dressed.” she responded, closing the door again. He fell back against the door, forehead hot against cool, painted wood. He was such an idiot. He had a naked woman in his bathroom, and he just asked if she were almost done, as if he just wanted her gone and away from him as soon as possible. She probably thought he was gay for not at least flirting. Not that he knew how to flirt, unless stating the various hormones and neurotransmitters that contributed to sex and love and saying that his were made abnormally high in her presence. Now that he thought about it, she was just dorky enough to go for it, and at least she wouldn't have heard it before. Maybe later...

….........................................................................................................................................................

You were late to class again, this time algebra 103. The teacher didn't seem to mind, but gave you the “don't do it again” look and moved on to the rest of the lecture in which she laid down the basic skills that would be needed for obtaining a satisfactory grade in the class. You knew how to do about two, and there were six of them. No matter how many problems the professor did on the board, you were left utterly confused, and ready to just fail out and work fast food for the rest of your life. Sighing as the bell rang out in shrill mocking of your confusion, you decided that you would just ask Kankri, and hope that he knew what he was doing since he had already taken the class, being a sophomore and all.   
When you arrived at practice, however, math veered from your focus as you heard the guys crowded around a clearly embarrassed Kankri and using what you called “guy talk voices”, that is to say, scathing tones filled with warmth underneath that only guy friends used.  
“Come on man, we saw her leaving your dorm room soaking wet. You totally hit that!” Dirk said, and your face turned as bright as your partner's.  
“No! We just went over evidence and then she was there past curfew, and she used my shower. It was nothing like that, she's a nice girl!” he said, seemingly more offended by the fact they assumed you were the sort to sleep with him so soon than their judging of his character.  
“Dude, it's alright. If she likes you, sleeping with you doesn't make her a whore. It makes her a human.” John said, seeming to try and allay his fears for the purpose of an admission.  
“If my bastard brother got laid, he wouldn't still have that stick so far up his ass it effects his speech. He didn't get any, so stop bugging him.” Karkat yelled, thought whether he was defending his brother, or putting him down, you were incapable of telling.   
“Who's getting laid?” you asked, choosing that moment to walk in and make your presence known. They all jumped, and you mentally laughed so hard your brain-abdomen hurt.   
“No one!” Kankri yelled, huffing and glaring at you.  
“Uh...okay...” You muttered, sitting down and waiting for the coach to show up and yell the awkward tension out of the room, as was his specialty.  
Regardless, you still got Kankri to agree to letting you go to his dorm again, though he would be cooking this time. He would help you with math, and then you'd move on to figuring out the rest of your case, and finding new evidence.   
You remembered your laptop, and he remembered his timer. At promptly eleven, he all but kicked you out, and you were left wondering if he really was of the opinion that you were the unsavory sort of girl that a genius like himself would want nothing to do with. You only hoped you could change his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've missed the feeling of competition, and Kankri's skills are hardly a let down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Policy debate is the most common in college, so that's what you're doing. It's fast paced, with the same topic all year, and requires a lot of evidence, just in case anyone wanted to know.

At a party, you were utterly lost, and in school you were awkward at best. Practice was rather cozy, but nothing in the world could beat the feeling of walking into an actual debate, the sound of intellect and practiced speeches filling the air as you took a deep breath and stood tall. Here, you were confidant, a queen in her castle; soon everyone would learn to bow. Yes, nothing could beat the feeling of a suit, heels, and a well written case. Especially when you had a wonderful partner like Kankri to back you up, his voice perfect in enunciation and tone in spite of the speeds necessary to make a good policy case. Dirk, in his attempts to woo you, offered to carry in your evidence tubs, and was regretting it, seeing as he was currently lifting his own as well, straining under the weight but pretending not to.  
“Alright in contention one, sub point C, we have that...” you were going on, and for once, your partner actually understood what you were saying. In high school, your coach had a habit of sticking you with the novices who didn't have partners, and usually lacked skill as well. Such was the consequence of being the one who made cases instead of friends on the team, and thusly lacked a loyal, stable partner.  
“No, that's card 14D, not 14C. Remember, that was the one on South Africa.” He corrected, walking next to you, his laptop bag strapped to his black-suited shoulder, a red turtleneck underneath, of course. He had every bit of evidence you had on it, but you were a traditionalist. People learned 34% better from paper than digital script, after all, not to mention faster on average, something important when you needed to shove an hour long speech into 8 minutes while still inflecting everything.  
“That's right. Alright, so if they ask about our ninth point...” yes, this was the most wonderful feeling in the world, or at least that's what you thought until you got into a round, with your mind running, ensuring that each and every point was defended and refuted. Crossfires where each question was loaded, and you managed to deflect and turn them with practiced ease. The rush of adrenaline as you made the point you knew would win you the round, and the smirk you hid for appearance's sake as the other team frantically searched for something to counter it with until their minutes of prep time elapsed, and they grasped at straws.  
Needless to say, by lunch you were out of your heels and dancing about as you chose not to partake in the mediocre Papa John's with extra pepperoni, dancing to the imaginary symphony you were conducting in your head. Kankri was sitting down, eating a sandwich he'd brought himself, not one for greasy foods, and Dirk and John went over their aff case, which apparently had an inherent logical flaw they had forgotten to cover with evidence. Two rounds down, two more pre-lems and make two breaks to go and then you got to send word home that you'd won your first college level debate.  
“Are you sure that you can handle caffeine well, (y/n)? Kankri asked, raising a brow and taking another bite of turkey and provolone.  
“I'm fine. This is just my natural ass-kicking high. Nothing to do with the soda.” you responded, wishing they would hurry up and bring out the next rounds, even if they were power-matched. It took a while for them to figure out who to pair up with who, but that didn't make you any less impatient as your dancing became anxious pacing around the table your team had claimed for it's own.  
“Will you th'top that!” Sollux shouted, currently printing evidence for the other team, and agitated by your nervous energy. You scowled, but sat next to Kankri nonetheless, tapping your feet and fingers.  
“Can your really not relax? You aren't this bad in round.” Kankri said, and you sighed.  
“I hate waiting. I want to hurry up and get this done. I came here to debate, not wait for half an hour while they figure out how to put people's names into a computer.” you complained, angrily chugging down another Dr. Pepper.  
“I dislike waiting as well, but is it really worth spending next semester's book funds on soda to not just calmly wait for them to finish their work. Not to mention that everyone else would actually like to eat something, rather than inhale it.”  
“Pansies the lot of you. Eating on competition is for wimps. If you eat, it takes energy from your brain for digestion as well as blood and thusly oxygen. I think better hungry.” you explained, popping the tab to another fizzy distraction.  
“Then we could go over our cases. We should be neg next round, and we didn't go over that as much at practice.” he suggested, finishing his food and neatly wiping his hands before pulling his laptop from its synthetic cloth and foam protection.  
“Good idea. We didn't really hash out sub-point A fully, so I was just going to read my version. They weren't all that different, just the use of card 11H over 12A.”  
“See, downtime can be just as productive. No need to give Sollux a heart attack.” he said, pulling up the 700+ page document that had all of your evidence in large print. He had bad eyes, so the 8 font you printed yours in wasn't gonna work for him. He needed more like 22 to be able to see it clearly. It gave you a headache just to see it so big, having to move your eyes so fast just to read at the same speed. You told him once that he would get arthritis from pressing the down key so much, having to keep up with his speaking pace, which was even faster than yours when he really got into it.  
“Alright, then. But you see, this one here goes better with sub point B...”

You were so tired by the end of final round, ending at about 9 PM after waking up at 4 that morning, that you stopped caring about how Kankri saw you and just went to change into the clothes you'd brought in case the suit got too uncomfortable. It wasn't painfully unsuitable, but the restricted movement was starting to annoy you, and so you, like many of the others, were waiting for awards in clothes that barely passed as pajamas. Gym shorts that came down about an inch from showing your ass, and the thin-strapped black tank top that had served as your undershirt all day. You'd worn a red collared shirt to resemble your partner without matching to the point of tacky, but that was now neatly balled up and shoved in a Walt-Mart bag to be ironed and hung at a later date.  
Kankri had switched to black sweat pants, but maintained his sweater. You'd simply wrap yourself in your sub-arctic sleeping bag if you got cold on the bus, and the thirty second walk to said bus would be bearable for the sake of being comfortable.  
With your competition high running down, you found yourself falling asleep, drifting off and leaning on Kankri's shoulder as your head became outrageously heavy. If he minded, he didn't show it, but you were too exhausted to be thrilled at his compliance. You got an hour an a half of rest before the sound of applause roused you, meaning that someone had brought the awards out, and more importantly, the envelope containing the winners, like a Grammy show that you had to be intelligent to win.  
The other events went by painfully slowly, as they saved policy for last, being the most anticipated event. Third place went to Dirk and John, and you stood and clapped, cheering for your victorious associates while hoping that you beat them. It was the “I want you to win, but me to win more” attitude held by anyone who was on an inception team: one where you were a team within a team. Second went to the people you had gone against in finals, nearly guaranteeing what you had decided for the sake of positive visualization to be inevitable from the start.  
First place went to Kankri and yourself, the trophy coming nearly to your hip, and being too heavy for you to carry it. Knowing this, Kankri accepted it as you shook the man handing them out's hand, smiling politely and thanked him. Soon you were dismissed, and Coach Nior appeared from the tab room he had helped run with a big smile and ballots, congratulating both of his teams and offering to buy you dinner. At the mention of food, nearly 11, your stomach made a growl to make a lion green with envy.  
“That's what you get for not eating.” Kankri said, almost scolding, but mostly playful.  
“Can we just hurry up and get to the part where I stuff my face on the coach's dollar? 'Cause that would be great, guys.” you responded, leading the way to your 6-seater bus in spite of the fact that it was locked and your coach/driver had to be there to let you in anyway.  
The cold hit you like a wall, but you trudged forward, leaving the noble Texan to carry your tubs for you again, your bag with clothes money and copious amounts of mints and chewing gum that was slightly less copious than before you arrived. You wanted to ask Kankri for his jacket, or maybe appeal to Dirk's sense of chivalry and ask for his, but your feminist tendencies wouldn't allow you to do something so stereotypical, so you just stood shivering until the bus was opened, at which point you rushed to your sleeping bag, reveling in the warmth of it's plush insides. Kankri chuckled as he walked over to you, sitting down next to you, and setting the trophy in the extra seat for stuff at the front.  
“Aw, come on. Can't wear something like that and then cover up.” Dirk said, walking past you and winking.  
“I'm pretty sure this trophy means I can do whatever I damn well please.” you responded, smirking at his feigned offense.  
“Well now, that was just rude. Maybe you should try and make I up to me. A kiss'll do nicely, I think.”  
“This is why I liked an all boy's team.” Coach said, putting the keys in the ignition, “less sexual harassment. Just make sure you don't get reported, boy. I'd hate to have your scholarship revoked.”  
“It's fine, coach. As long as he keeps his hands to himself.” you gave him a pointed look, and then turned to the front, eager to reach whatever Chic-Fil-A you would be eating at that night.

“I can't ever remember having that much fun, so thanks Kankri.” you said, halfway through the three hour drive home with the other three debaters asleep.  
“I had an excellent time as well. There is no need to thank me.”  
“No need, but I want to anyway. You can keep the trophy, and we'll trade off.”  
“Very well. You should get some sleep. You haven't finished your essay for British Lit, and it's due Monday.”  
“Don't remind me! It's a struggle being a lazy perfectionist, okay?” Even as he spoke you found your eyelids heavy. Deciding to test your luck, you placed your head on his shoulder once more, drifting into the sweet abyss of sleep, cuddling to him in the guise of seeking a pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet your mysterious absent roomate. Who is she, and why is everyone afraid of her?

You hadn't remembered to call your mother that Sunday, something which you were reminded of as soon as you turned your phone on Monday afternoon after class. There were 46 messages, and 45 were from your mother. The other was from Kankri, asking if you would be over that evening. You already had cases written, but you had run into a few holes that you would have to fix to keep winning. That was the problem with a topic that lasted all year; by the time it was over, you'd have seven tubs of the stuff, printed out, and know everything about it. There was no being finished. You answered him In the affirmative, and took a deep breath for courage and opened the first of your mother's barrage. You saw caps lock, and your heart sank. She was most defiantly angry, especially with this being the first one. They only got more upset as time went on, and by the end of it they were four page rants about how she was in so much trouble. You wondered if calling your mother justified as suicide on life insurance as you dialed the home number, praying that it would be your little sister who answered instead.  
“Where the Hell have you been? I've been worried sick about you, young lady...” No such luck then. You held the phone away from your ear, recovering from the initial shock which, in retrospect, should have been expected, and waiting for a chance to explain yourself. It took nearly ten minutes, and came only as she gasped for breath, but finally you found it.  
“Mom, I'm sorry, okay. I had a report, and I slept through most of the day. I won't do it again.” You got out, before she had her second wind and was going at it again. She watched far to many crime shows, where the nice college girl is out jogging or something, and gets kidnapped. You had been told to call her at least once a week on Sundays at noon, but you'd forgotten until late that night, and by then it was far to late to call her.  
It took a while, but you managed to calm her down, and she returned to normal conversation. You decided you liked being yelled at better when she got into her favorite topic.  
“So how about that boy you like?” you rolled your eyes, and pinched the bridge of your nose.  
“Just because he's a boy that I'm friends with, doesn't mean that I want to date him.” you tried to explain, your cheeks turning red as she laughed.  
“You talk about him all the time! 'Kankri this' and 'Kankri that' and it's never because he's done something wrong. It's always how wonderful and smart he is.”  
“Because he is smart. But that doesn't mean that we're gonna get married mom, everyone here is smart. We're just partners.” You insisted. All you needed was your mother getting it in her head that he was your boyfriend and trying to make him come home to meet them. He'd never talk to you again. And you'd be out a partner, every weekend an awkward gauntlet of trying to ignore him and failing. No, nothing good would come from your mother even suspecting that you liked him.  
“Honey, that's what I told my mother about your father. And six years later you were born. Don't try and fool me.” You rolled your eyes, and asked to put your sister on. You could hear her in the background, asking if your mom was done yet, asking if she could have the phone already. And then as soon as she got it, she would pretend like she didn't want to talk to you, and she was being forced to because that's just how she was. When you came home at one in the morning from debates, she would be in the car, in her pj's but up so as to be there to see you. And when you left, she would drag herself out of bed at Christ o'clock to see you off. If you were gone for more than a day, then she would run around the house, asking if it was time to get you yet, but then when you were home, a simple acknowledgment of affection was a miracle, in that it happened pretty much only on Christmas and your birthday.   
“Here she is. Joanna, you sister!” She pretended to call, because if you were informed of her eagerness, she got upset. You never would understand the 15 year old mind, even though it had been yours only three and a half years prior.  
“Were you too busy at your drunken college parties to call your family, then, or did mom's harassment just get annoying?” She asked, her smile audible, and you knew that it had earned a scowl from you mother.  
“Neither. I had homework to do.” You told her, a smile coming to your face, missing her more than usual, as was the usual result of your Sunday call.  
“Is that what they're calling it nowadays? Man, we gotta catch up with the lingo. We're so unoriginal, just calling it cocaine and meth.”  
“Kid, if you think I have time to be high then your view of college needs to stop coming from MTV.”  
“What? You mean it's not just running around in your bikini, making out with dudes and illegally consuming alcohol?” She said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.  
“Cute, kid. Fun fact: there's actually WORK involved in getting a degree.”  
“Guess med school's out of the question then. I'm not doing eight years of work.” Yes, this is what you missed the most. Going back and forth with the kid, keeping a straight face as long as you could, but ending in giggles that neither of you could stop. And if anyone asked you to explain it, neither of you could do that either, but it was fun.  
“I miss you, kiddo.” You said, sighing at the end of your laughter.  
“But you'll be home in a month for Christmas, right? And then I can make you do the chores that I got stuck with when you left.” She meant it jokingly, but you knew that she was having a hard time. She wasn't any more used to not having you than you were with not having her, and you felt bad, like maybe you should have just stayed there with her. You could have went to the local community college, or maybe went online, but instead you'd gone to the other side of the country, and left her to a small farm and a demanding mother, getting crabbier every day since your father passed.  
“Yeah. I've already got your present picked out, you know? It's gonna be great, I promise.”  
“If you say that you showing up is the gift, I'll hit you.”  
“Well, that is the greatest gift ever...” You said, false egotism making her chuckle, “but no, this is actually something other than my awesome self showing up and making your day with my presence.”  
“Yeah yeah. Don't you have a boyfriend to get back to? Maybe make out in a pool of statistics? Let him talk dirty politics with you?”  
“He's not my boyfriend!”  
“Oh Kankri, yes, tell me more about the Iranian hostage crisis” She fake-moaned, and then cackled like a witch.  
“Dammit, he's not my boyfriend!”  
“That's not a very nice word, sis”  
“You're not a very nice person.”  
“Took you this long to figure it out?”  
“Ugh. I gotta go. I'll call you later. Love you, bye.” You hurriedly hung up as you heard a knock on your door. You were supposed to be meeting Kankri later that afternoon, but at his dorm as usual.  
When you opened it, there was a girl looking at you with blue eyes, blue lips and a glare. She pushed you aside, and walked in, digging through things on the other side of the room.  
“Um, excuse me, have we met?” You asked, somewhere between angry and confused. Mostly angry, since she seemed to be one of the rudest robbers in history.  
“Vriska Serket. You're roommate? Wow, you never even bothered thinking that maybe the things that popped up here didn't just appear out of nowhere?” She snapped, and your eyes went wide, not expecting her to have thrown manners so thoroughly out the window.  
“Okay then. I'm sorry, it's just that I never see you.” You said, hoping that she was just in a bad mood, or at least that she would be as scarce as she had been up to this point.  
“That's because I'm studying Arachnology, and the spiders don't like to do what they should in the day.” She threw it at you as if it should be obvious.  
“But, why haven't I seen you on weekends?”  
“Because I'm not lazy like you. I'm taking double courses so that I can get out of this place faster. And why do you care? Just go back to whatever nerd stuff you do, and leave me alone.” she rolled her eyes, grabbed a book, and was gone just as abruptly as she'd come. You were left reeling, and curious. You barely kept yourself from going through the small trunk of things that she had left unlocked, figuring that she'd know, and it was best not to anger the girl who played with deadly arachnids for fun.  
Maybe one of the boys would know her? You made a note to ask them at practice, which, you realized, started in just a few minutes. You grabbed your laptop, and ran out, luckily not going in the same direction as your frankly terrifying roommate.

 

“So you finally decided to show up? Good for you. Now get to work. Winning once doesn't mean that you get to loaf around from now on. You're working here, or your working for your tuition.” You coach scolded, Kankri sitting in the corner, reading over his evidence.  
“Hey, sorry. I met my roommate today.” You told him, realizing that it sounded like an excuse as you plugged the laptop in and acquiring the proper folder, rather than simply a different thought altogether. “Do you know someone named Vriska Serket?”  
“What?” They all stopped, turning toward you as if you'd just shouted Voldemort in Hogwarts, slightly afraid and mostly angry at the lack of social grace you were obviously displaying.  
“T-that was her name. I take it you know her then?”  
“She's nearly been expelled thrice!” Sollux said, then looked around as if killing him would be her fourth encounter with punishment.  
“John's got a crush on her...” Dirk said, the only one who wasn't utterly terrified.  
“She is. . . interesting, to say the least. I find her search of knowledge admirable, but she did throw that one freshman from the library roof. He can't feel from the hips down. . .” Kankri went pale, and nervously pulled at the hem of his sweater.  
“So I'm rooming with a psychopath who plays with spiders. Great.” you felt sick. This wasn't happening, this was something that happened in bad sitcoms, not real life. You were sure it was all just a misunderstanding. You'd heard of people getting bad reputations, and even debaters mistrusted sources every once in a while.  
“I'll get you a change of room form today, and you'll be out of there by next week, kid.” Even coach Jack? Just who the hell was this girl?


End file.
